Frozen In Place
by SwissloveandRussianhugs18
Summary: Iceland has always lived in solitude. He knows no other way to live. It simply is the only thing he knows will remain constant in his life. The other Nordics try to change this however, for the sake of their friend. Though Iceland...he can't deal with the change. His emotions go out of control and he cant control himself anymore. What will the other Nordics do to fix their mistake


Frozen in Place: Chapter 1

A flower that blooms in idleness

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Iceland sighed as he sat in his seat at the Nordics meeting room. Denmark and Norway were fighting as usual and Sweden was being calling Finland his wife again. Why did it always seem like Iceland was the odd one out? No one ever talked to him. Norge was busy with Den and Fin was busy with Sve. He was always alone. Though he should be used to it, he supposed. It was how he grew up

"Hey, Ice!"

Iceland blinked as he turned to Denmark "What?" he asked in his usual cold monotone voice. Denmark smiled "Why are you so quiet over there? Don't you get lonely?" Iceland froze. Lonely…? Well, he supposed so. A pang of hurt blazed across his chest and flashed briefly in his amethyst eyes before he shook his head "No. I prefer to be alone." He lied. He had gotten a talent for lying. Though whether or not it was a good or bad thing, he didn't know. Norway looked at him closely "Little brother, you are more quiet than usual. Is everything alright?" he asked in his usual calm and monotone voice. Iceland nodded "Of course, why would it not?" he asked, though that wasn't how he felt at all.

You see, Iceland is a complex person. He grew up in solitude. At first, everything was well. Iceland talked, he laughed, he smiled, and he was happy. Then fights broke out. Denmark and Sweden would yell for hours on end, Norway would try to stop them but he would get stuck in it. Finland would clasp his hands over Iceland's ears to block out the sounds as he yelled at the others for scaring the boy. Iceland watched on in fear, waiting for the first punch to be thrown. It did. During a heated fight, Denmark had gone to far and Sweden had punched him. Norway had of course held Sweden back while Finland held Denmark back. Sweden wrestled against Norway's grip and Denmark against Finland's. Iceland remembered that clearly. He watched them from a corner, hands clutching his hair and pulling as he watched on in fear and crystal tears fell out of his wide eyes. Sweden broke free and was about to throw another hit, then a loud cry of fear broke through the air and echoed throughout the house, a nearby mirror forming a crack at the pitch. The other Nordics had snapped their heads to the corner, their eyes going wide as they watched the little boy sitting there. Iceland had broken into hysterics, wails coming from his mouth at high pitches as he pulled on his hair frantically and squirmed. The others rushed over and he felt Norway pick him up "Ice! Calm down!" the other said, rocking him back and forth to try to soothe him. Sweden reached out to help, setting a gentle hand on the small boys shoulder. Iceland's eyes widened and his eyes turned to Sweden, shaking in fear. Finland gulped

"S-Sve, I don't think-"

"AHHHH! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Iceland shrieked, flinging himself out of Norway's arms and dashing down the hallway with sobs. He hid in the wine cellar for hours, only coming out when Norway had promised him a bed time story. Not long after that, Sweden and Finland had left in the middle of the night. Iceland wept that day, it just wasn't the same without that. That was his first change, he stopped laughing.

But everything turned back to normal soon, and Iceland smiled again. Of course though, that changed quickly. Norway and Denmark began to fight, and this time Finland wasn't there to keep him from hearing it. Every word that was thrown into the air stung Iceland like an icey whip. Even if it wasn't directed towards him, the pain of losing his family cut so deep in his little soul he would cry and shriek at them until they stopped. They apologized, of course, and would read him stories until he had forgotten that days fight. But Iceland knew. He knew he was the only thing holding Denmark and Norway together. He tried the best he could to keep them both happy, stopping the fights before they happened by interrupting them with a story of what he did that day or asking them to go play outside with him. Though it was never enough. They would fight when Iceland was asleep and eventually, Norway left.

Norway tried to bring Iceland with him but Denmark refused to hand the young nation over. Norway promised to come back, promised to save Iceland one day. Never happened. Iceland saved himself. After Norway left, Iceland changed again. He stopped smiling, stopped talking. Denmark didn't know what to do, he had a country to take care of and he couldn't be home to be with Iceland. Though it was fine, Iceland didn't care anymore.

There were no more fights, it was calm. Iceland wasn't happy though, he would walk around the house and pretend everyone was still there. Finland in the kitchen cooking with Sweden helping, Denmark and Norway arguing lightly about what furniture looked best in what room, and little Iceland happily skipping around. He tried to skip again, only to find that he couldn't. He had been out of practice and had forgotten the movements. He eventually stopped showing emotion as well, knowing no one would be around to comfort him and tell him it would be alright, no one to hold him in a secure embrace, no one to give him advice. Eventually his country fell into famine and his body began to ache terribly, though he never complained. He just bottled up the pain and cast it aside like a child that had gotten bored of a toy. Eventually, Iceland grew up and it was time for him to leave Denmark. The look on Denmark's face tore Iceland apart, he never knew the Dane could be so sad. Though he yearned for his freedom more than anything. So he left. No promises about returning, no farewell, no words of thanks for raising him. He just packed his clothes, got something to eat, and left.

Iceland stiffened as he remembered those painful times, he stared ahead with a distant look. The other Nordics turned to him "Ice…?" Finland asked as he set a hand on the boys shoulder. That did it. Iceland squeezed his eyes shut as his tears poured out and before he could stop himself, he let out a loud wail. This was far worse than the ones he gave off as a kid. He had been bottling up his emotions for so long, only for them to spill out in a single wail that made his throat go raw. He hadn't realized just how loudly he had shrieked until Norway's cell phone screen cracked at the sound that had been expelled. The cold nation clamped his mouth shut and paled as he realized just what he had done. The others looked at him with wide eyes

"Ice!" Norway said as he got up from his seat and jumped over the table, making a motion to hug his pained brother. Iceland's face returned to it's normal expression aside from the new dried trails of tears. A small smack echoed throughout the room as Iceland smacked Norway's arms away "No. Do not touch me. Ever." Iceland's words were cold and stung worse than snake venom as he got up from his seat, exiting the room as though nothing had happened.

Iceland strode through the doors of his house, his feet leading him to his room by habit. As soon as he had locked the door behind him, he burst into tears and hysterics. He went to a corner in his room and sat down, curling into a ball as he wept loudly into his arms. What had he done? Why did he have to be so distant from the others? Why…why couldn't he just be happy like them? It hurt him so much to be so cold to them all the time when he could just laugh with them and say "It's alright! I'm happy!" instead of saying "Go away. I want to be alone, got that?" to their faces? He hated seeing the way their smiles would disappear at his words, even Sweden would seem saddened by his response.

Iceland sniffled as he reached for his pocket, pulling out his pin. It was an Icelandic flag pin he had gotten from Norway for his birthday. He pulled his sleeve up and took the sharp end of the pin, slowly poking it into his pale flesh before dragging it across. He watched as the crimson colored blood leaked out of the cut, dripping onto the light blue carpeting of his room. He watched it drip, imagining every drop contained a bitter memory and that the carpet was his mind. He watched as each drop was absorbed into the carpet, staining it. He rolled his sleeve back down to cover the cut, going to his bed and lying on it. He didn't even other to change out of his clothes, take his shoes off, or pull the covers over himself. He just wanted to sleep a dreamless sleep, to be carried away into the darkness. It was his only comfort.

As he began to drift off, he wondered about himself. Who was he? What was he…? His eyes closed as he murmured a single sentence he thought fit him best

"I am Iceland, I suffer in solitude."


End file.
